


everchanging evenings.

by caticoo



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, KINDA meant to be an anniversary present for my gf njfkhgkgdfj, M/M, Secret Crush, i just wanted to write goods, no this isnt a crackfic dont mind the upload date, ummmmmmmmm just gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caticoo/pseuds/caticoo
Summary: mitsuru is the warmth that sora craves.





	everchanging evenings.

**Author's Note:**

> hi. my name is cati! i love mitsusora.
> 
> i don't really know where i was going with this. i wrote what i wanted. this was supposed to be overly sweet-worded but i sort of failed at that, laughs. the ensemble stars tag here is so cursed. so i wanted to provide something sweet. as always, thank you for your support.

Sora watches him with blazing blue eyes, to rival the shades of the impulsive skies.

There hadn’t been much to do today than to waltz around lollygagging and Sora knew this well. Typically there were things to do most of the while, whether that be attending to his Master and Senpai’s biddings, interacting with others even though Sora knew he wasn’t the most skilled in communication. However, today was a day to soak in colors rather to interact with them. And he watched one particular boy’s colors, the flares and changes, and most usually, everyone had one specific color to them – Sora knew this better than anyone would ever have the possibility to. But it was almost as if his changed, from moment to moment, as he dashed around, and Sora’s eyes, the deep skies they were, to watch him.

Blazing red and honey orange, mostly in such a spectrum, to which Sora felt himself sinking his ever-clueless fingers in, from a distance, so close yet so far away. His finger trails the boy as he streams around the track, dashing, dashing! – like he loved to do. As if he’s dragging him along, like a piece of charcoal on paper, making an image dazzling to the eyes. A strange mixture that was not static, and Sora’s eyes kept up with the interesting changes – he first noticed such a phenomenon during class, losing focus, even though Master had told him to not. Sometimes disobeying was simply part of the process.

The brunette was not a boy that Sora couldn’t connect to, for otherwise, he’d not be friends with him – but he was, nicknames affectionately given, and first-name bases wasn’t bad at all. He felt as if he could sugar step right next to him wherever his feet trailed, through the brisk fields to the gritty sand and even to the ledges and steps of the sides of the school. And it wasn’t all just imagination, for there were times where such things did happen, and those times, Sora unquestionably treasured.

Life was an adventure with color, but life was even more of an adventure when there was someone who was sharing his color with him. An ever changing hue, and Sora could observe for himself the back and forths of his warm spectrum, and he wondered why this was the case. Observing became interacting and interacting became spending time and spending time became becoming consumed in the idea of being next to this bucket of color that would go back and forth in warm colors that Sora found a fiery home for. And he’d be lying if he said he did not adore it.

The wild mass of colors, all reds, yellows, oranges, begins to thread towards him as it becomes more apparent to his eyne. Sora catches his breath and immediately smiles when he knows it is him, to land next to his spot on the grassy area he had perched upon, and to sigh a tired breath and for Sora to catch that breath with his heart. And that’s exactly what happens, as he takes his place beside him, brown hair tangling into the blades of grass, and Sora laughs.

The boy laughs too, and Sora’s heart is filled with every shade of pink available. And he knows what that is. It’s love.

“Can you feel it, Mitsu-chan?” He impulsively asks, and wants to cover his mouth as if words were physical things to shove back into, but instead he stays static – there’s no point now. He knows Mitsuru can’t. But that’s fine.

“Eh? Feel what? I’m feeling pretty exhausted, yanno?” Mitsuru laughs, and as his eyelids flutter, his eyelashes catch the sunlight and Sora believes that he’s some reincarnation of colors that would otherwise be unseen by others. Maybe he thinks he’s special for it. To see this sort of Mitsuru, that nobody else can see. “Zzz~”

“Heehee~ nothing! Sora was just speaking thoughtless things,” A simple lie and that’s all he needs, and maybe it’s a bit too easy to convince Mitsuru of these things – or maybe it’s because Mitsuru trusts him like that. The brunette falls victim to slumber and Sora lays beside him, tenderly, carefully, as he feels his hand involuntarily brush against his.

An ashamed smile paints Sora’s face as the colors of Mitsuru wash him over like a blanket, and he grasps his hand as if Mitsuru is dash dashing him through all of this. But it’s not like Sora minds all of the different colors of warmth, the sea that Mitsuru is pushing him through, because there is one thing that he is sure of.

Mitsuru would never let go of his hand.


End file.
